Coffee and Rum
by writingwhimseys
Summary: He makes art and wonders who the beautiful woman at the window table is. She fixes people and wonders who the barista with the bright eyes is. He's passion, action, and fire. She's peace, order, and intellect. They're very different and, yet, they worked. Modern AU, rated T for later, Anidala.
1. One

Disclaimer: I am not affliated with Star Wars or Disney in any way.

* * *

 **Coffee and Rum**

 **Chapter 1**

There's something about the way that paint feels on his hands, the worn wood of a paintbrush in his fingers, color blooming on his canvas and breaking up the lifeless white- the tactile, immediate joy of expression that is art. The sensory beauty of it is something Anakin knows he'll never tire of. Put a virgin lump of clay in his hands, give him a pencil and fresh sheet of paper, heck, he'd take a box of crayons- as soon as he has a medium in his hands, he can feel the anticipation begin to boil within him. It doesn't take much.

His skill, however, lies with the paintbrush. Maybe it's his talent, maybe it's his love of the art, or perhaps he's just obsessed with paint. (It's a bit of all three, he figures.) The emotion you can pour out through paint never fails to hook him. The deadly grace of the brush that can bring harmony and chaos to a work at the painter's whim is a skill he marvels at and finds fulfilment in using. Every emotion and feeling can be painted if you feel it deeply enough.

With a final swipe of his brush across the canvas, Anakin steps back from and takes in the full work. His painting is swatched in red and blues, broad strokes weaving around a storm of thinner lines. It is havoc and energy and Anakin knows that it is perfect. He lets out a sigh of relief and carefully moves the easel into a corner where the painting can dry without being knocked over. The darn thing is due tomorrow and he is not risking having a repeat of his last painting assignment, which involved a misstep, a cup of coffee, and three hours repainting a generous section of a forest landscape.

Beginning to clean up, Anakin glances at the clock on the wall. His eyes widens.

"Nooooooooooo no no no, I'm gonna be late," he mutters under his breath. Abandoning the art supplies, he runs down the hall of the apartment to change out of his painting clothes. Not even a minute later, pulling on a clean t-shirt over his head, Anakin skids back down the hall and grabs his car keys from the kitchen. If he is late again to work, Ahsoka is never going to let it go.

* * *

"Cutting it close as usual, you are, Anakin." Mr. Yoda says, his voice lilting, as Anakin slides past the counter door. Mr. Yoda has been running the coffee shop as long as anyone can remember and, in the two years since Anakin started working there, he's always seemed to pick the nights Anakin is running behind to come in. It's annoying and psychically impressive all at once.

"I'm still on time, though, aren't I?" Anakin quips, flashing a smile in Mr. Yoda's direction. Mr. Yoda says nothing, letting out a light sigh and moving into the backroom. As the shop owner disappears around the corner, Anakin grabs his apron from the rack on the wall. As he puts it on, Ahsoka puts down the mugs she's been drying and smirks at him.

"One of these days, he's going to give up on you and let you go." Ahsoka says

"And lose his best barista? Never." Anakin shoots back. Just then, a few customers step in to the cafe. As business picks up, Anakin and Ahsoka fall into their usual rhythm as they get to work.

An hour into his shift, Anakin glances up as he runs the paces of making a latte and pauses. At the table by the west window sits a woman reading a book. Her hands cupping her mug, she is focused on her task, her brow furrowed in concentration. As the light from the evening sun paints her face pale gold and draws dim shadows on her profile, Anakin can feel a familiar tension growing inside him- the need to create, to capture the moment. He reaches down below the counter to the shelf where he keeps a spare sketch pad and pencil.

"Put the pencil down, Skywalker. You've got four drinks to make." Ahsoka's voice pipes up. Anakin makes to speak, but Ahsoka cuts him off.

"Drinks now, art later." She says, flicking her blue hair over her shoulder and subtly pointing to the backroom, where Mr. Yoda sits, filling out paperwork. Frowning, Anakin gets back to work, finishing the latte. Even as he works, however, his eyes flick now and again to the window, where the sunlight slowly fades and the moment is lost, but the beautiful woman remains.

* * *

Padmé yawns, stretching her arms out in the process. She's been sitting at the table for hours, trying to read through her textbook. She thought if she got a coffee, she'd be able to perk up and focus. Now, her mug long gone cold and three chapters later, she feels tried and no more knowledgeable than before.

Sometimes, Padmé wonders if she's meant to make it to med school, let alone just graduate with her undergraduate degree. Even as she thinks this, she berates herself for it. She knows she'll make it somehow. She always does. That doesn't mean it won't be hard, but that's neither here nor there. She's been pursuing being a doctor ever since she was little and she's not about to give up chasing it now, not after all this time spent working towards it. Of course, in the moment, all that dedication feels like is a one-way ticket to debt from tuition and sleep deprivation. She immediately scolds herself for that thought as well, albeit half-heartedly.

With a sigh, Padmé sips her drink and looks around. The cafe is quiet, a few customers smattering the work tables. At the counter, the baristas putter and clean, the female worker shuffling boxes of tea in the cabinets. Slowly, Padmé's eyes fall on the other worker, who works at the espresso machine. She has seen him before on days like today, when she comes in to study. His movements are swift and fluid and he works quickly, cleaning his station. He is classically handsome, all messy blond hair, blue eyes, and bronzed skin. Padmé registers all of this with quiet curiosity, feeling her stomach flip. She's no flirt and she's not about to go out of her way on his behalf, but she can admit to herself that he is nice to look at.

For a moment, she watches him work. Then his eyes glance upwards, meeting hers. The barista pauses what he is doing and Padmé feels her heart begin to speed up as they stare at each other. It's a moment of connection, of mutually being caught in the act. Slowly, purposefully, Padmé turns her eyes back to her book, picking up where she left off and trying to ignore the butterflies that take off in her stomach. They don't go away, however, as she feels his gaze on her long after she finishes the page.

* * *

"Just so you know, ma'am, we close in a half hour."

With a start, Padmé is drawn out of her thoughts. She's been reading a particularly heavy chapter on neurotransmitters and she must've gotten lost in it. For a moment, she wonders if the coffee may have actually done it's job. Then she notices the female barista standing right beside her table. Realization dawns on Padmé and she checks her watch. It's been hours since she first set foot in the cafe.

"Sorry, I lost track of time. Thanks for letting me know." Padmé says, as she starts packing up her things. As the barista walks away, Padmé gets up to leaving, grabbing her mug and bringing it to the counter, where the male worker is wiping down the counters. When she sets the mug down, the man looks up at her. As they lock gazes, Padmé notices two things; how bright and sharp his eyes are and how he pauses the motion of his hands. He seems thoughtful- hesitant, even. At this, Padmé can feel her nerves calm down. She offers the man a small smile.

"Have a good night," she says, before turning away and heading for the door. She doesn't stop to turn back or be coy- she's never been that kind of person. She's on no mission- when she thinks about it, a relationship is likely the last thing she needs with the amoutn of work she has to do right now with school and everything else. This thought is firmly in her mind as she walks outside, headed for the bus stop down the street. It doesn't stop her from sensing a pair of eyes following her until she turns a corner and the cafe windows disappear from view.

* * *

A/N: So I may or may not have finally watched Episodes I to III and I may or may not love Anidala. This fic was inspired by the art student/med student prompt from post/145246967054/one-cannot-have-enough-of-cute-and-random-aus-so. Not sure where this fic is going- may be one-shots, may be linear. We'll find out together. Let me know what you think. Cheers, loves!


	2. Two

Disclaimer: I don't own and am not affiliated with Star Wars or Disney or Lucasfilm.

 **Chapter 2**

"Sabé, can you please stop shaking the table? You're going to knock over the solution." Padmé asks as she carefully ferries the chemicals she's holding to their experiment set-up. Sabé- her friend and lab partner- looks up from her phone and frowned.

"It's not me- must be Jar Jar", Sabé replies, nodding in the direction of the other group- Jar Jar and Clovis- who work at their table. Padmé pauses her work to glance their way and, sure enough, Jar Jar is jittery as can be, knocking the table as he pours his solution into another beaker. Padmé sighs and turns back to her experiment, glancing at Sabé again.

"You know, this is a two person lab." Padmé says. Sabé is oblivious, typing away on her phone. Letting out her breath, Padmé turns back to the set-up and continues with the lab work.

Most people would get tired of doing calculations and evaluating chemical reactions for hours on end. Padmé couldn't lie- she'd yawned her way through many a lab. Working with the lab equipment, though, was bever boring to her. The process of physically working and seeing her efforts produce change in her solutions was fascinating to her. This cause and effect function was just one of the reasons she had decided to study medicine. There was no sitting around and waiting for someone to give you anwsers- you were finding them for yourself. The precision, the personal involvement, the order and guarantee of a solution to problems, be it undiscovered, were the cornerstone of her career choice. She doubts her choice weekly- daily, even- but getting her hands metaphorically dirty in the lab reminds her why she loves what she learns.

Loving something doesn't make it easy to do, of course, and at this moment in time, she needs another set of hands to work with. Beaker in one hand, she picks up Sabé's discarded glasses and holds them out to her.

"I need your help with this part, Sabé. Also, the TA is walking this way, so..." Padmé says, her voice trailing off casually. If Padmé thought that Sabé was tuned out, she was wrong; as Padmé' s words, Sabé stuffs her phone in her jean pocket, rockets up onto her feet and, grabbing the glasses, shoves them on her face. When she spots the TA on the other side of the lab, clearly helping another group, she turned to narrow her eyes at Padmé, who smiles innocently. Pouting, Sabé begrudgingly checks the instructions and starts working.

"So, are you going to the department social?" Padmé asks as they work. Every fall, the chemistry department student society puts on a mixer of sorts to give students a chance to socialize. Mostly, it just drags out the rumpled science professors from their science hovels and the party drinkers from their dorms, but it's been fun in the past nonetheless. Sabé nods at the question, eyes on the experiment.

"Yeah- I convinced Markus to go with me this year." She says, Markus being Sabé's boyfriend and an engineering student at the university. Sabé glances over at Padmé surreptitiously. "Flying solo again this year?" She asked. Padmé shrugs gently.

"I don't know if I'll go this year- I don't feel like watching the kinesiology majors crowd the dance floor like last time." She admits, her mind conjuring up an image of last year's party, the small ballroom filled with rowdy students. What it was about kinesiology that made their majors students so crazy at parties, Padmé would never understand. Well, she had deduced why pretty quickly, but it was still strange.

"If you want, I could see if Markus has any friends who want to go. I've met some of them and they're not all jerks, shockingly." Sabé offers. Padmé gives her an amused smile.

"I think I'm okay. I'm not looking for any dates right now." She replies. Even as she says it, something doesn't feel right about the words. Padmé ignores the feeling. Beside her, Sabé looks unimpressed.

"It doesn't have to be a date. There's got to be someone you'd want to ask." She says imperiously. Padmé shakes her head.

"Not really." She says in answer. Immediately, the nagging feeling returns. This time, it brings with it a flash of a memory- two eyes, intelligent and frozen in time, meeting hers.

Padmé ignores this, too. At least, she tries to.

* * *

"Wait, wait, hold on just a minute. You mean to tell me that you had the paint _in your hand_ and you managed to convince your TA that it wasn't you who ruined the painting?" Ahsoka's voice tilts up in scepticism as she listens to Anakin spin his latest tale. Down the counter, Anakin grins and shrugs.

"Obi-Wan likes me too much to believe that I would do it on purpose," Anakin says. "He's really into the whole 'respect the students and they will respect you" kind of thing- integrity and all that." The blond smirks as he continues. Ahsoka's eyes are sharp as cold steel as she eyes her coworker. With a short sigh, she turns away, blue hair flipping over her shoulder.

"You push your limits, Anakin." Ahsoka says matter-of-factly as she works. Anakin's only response is an eye roll Ahsoka doesn't see as he leans on the counter.

"They are there for pushing. No one gets anywhere just going along with things." Anakin says. Ahsoka hums in response, one eyebrow arched as she glances at her coworker suspiciously. "It's true- don't deny it." Anakin replies as he fiddles with things on the counter.

The bell on the front door chimes and Anakin looks up. In the door walks the woman from yesterday, the one he'd been itching to draw. She's here earlier today, the afternoon sun flaring its light around her face. As she enters, Anakin notes how, even in harsh daylight, she is beautiful, the sunlight clinging to the angles of her face in a way it ought not to. It is a picture of purity and mystery, a rare combination that Anakin aches to put to canvas. The immediate need, however, is to talk to this woman who makes modern art look like finger-painting.

Casually, Anakin takes up his place at the register, waiting as the woman walks up to the counter.

"Hi, how are you today?" Anakin asks with a small smile. The woman's gaze finds Anakin's face. For a moment, her mouth is set in a frown and she looks interrupted in thought, confusion in her eyes. Then, like a clearing storm, she breaks into a smile brighter than the sun.

"Hi, uh...I'll take a medium latte for here." She says serenely. Anakin nods, punching the cost into the register.

"Great. And can I grab your name?" He asks. The woman's head dips to the side and she looks vaguely suspicious.

"Uh, Padme." She says, eyes narrowing slightly. She sees right through Anakin's question and Anakin knows it. He grins wryly at her.

"Padme." He says, repeating her name. Padme's lips draw into a faint smile and she nods as she hands over a few bills. Anakin makes change quickly and hands her a handful of coins back. With a smile, Padme takes them and walks down to the barista station to wait.

It takes only a few minutes for Anakin to finish the latte and he slides it across the counter to her.

"Here you go, Padme." He says with another smile. Padme looks up from her phone and, as she picks up her cup, she eyes Anakin, one eyebrow raised. Her eyes lower, glancing at his name tag, before returning to meet his.

"Thanks...Anakin." She says, taking her cup with a knowing smile and turning away. As she crosses the room to her usual table by the window, Anakin watches her closely. She moves with easy grace, something that Anakin is quickly realizing characterizes every part of who she is. Wrenching his eyes off Padme, Anakin sets to cleaning up the back, something he has to do, lest he get a talking to from Mr. Yoda when he comes in later. Ahsoka, who has been watching the whole interaction between Anakin and Padme, smirks at him from her place at the backroom doorway.

"Got a crush, there, Ani?" She asks, her voice teasing. Normally, Anakin would brush it off and shoot back something, but today, he just shrugs and ignores her. Ahsoka seems surprised at his actions, too, as she cocks her eyebrow and turns back to what she was doing. Anakin begins putting away the mass of supplies that clutter the back counter, but, every now and then, he shoots a look back at Padme, who reads by the window.

Ahsoka wasn't wrong, though he would never say it. "Crush", however, isn't the word he would use.

It's something deeper than that.

* * *

A/N: Hello, lovelies! I've been meaning to post the second chapter for a bit, but life is insane right now and I've not had the time until now to finish it. I will keep updating this story as often as a I can, but I am busy right now, so do bear with me. Let me know what you think about this chapter- cheers!


	3. Three

Disclaimer: I am not affiliated with Star Wars, Lucasfilm, or Disney in any way.

* * *

 **Chapter 3**

"Today, we're going to do an exercise that's a little unconventional." At the front of the classroom, Qui-Gon stares out over the students. Dressed in a dark button down like always, long hair carefully pulled back, he has the air of a mage and the efficiency of a businessman. It makes Anakin both curious and annoyed, depending on the day. Beside Anakin, Obi-Wan watches the instructor carefully. Naturally, Obi-Wan likes Qui-Gon as an instructor, but Anakin can't tell if it's because he actually does like his teaching or he's trying to be a respectful TA. If his attentiveness in class is any indication, it may be both.

"I want you all to take out a fresh sheet of paper and draw the face of someone you know. However, I want you to do this without looking at a reference photo. No drawing anyone in this room, either." Qui-Gon says this serenely, hands at his back. "You have ten minutes."

At his words, the room comes alive with the riffling of paper and flapping notebooks. Obi-Wan flips to a fresh page in his book and begins sketching. Anakin copies him, opening his own notebook, but his pencil pauses before it touches the page. He needs someone to draw. It takes but a second for inspiration to come; into his mind swims a pair of eyes, chocolate brown and cinnamon warm, bright as firelight and cool as steel. Anakin smirks and begins to sketch.

The eyes are drawn first, naturally. They stare out from the page darkly, as though they are sizing Anakin up. It takes a perky swoop of a nose and a Mona Lisa smile to show that the stare is a friendly one. Anakin's pencil plays along the woman's crown, adding glossy streaks of hair that dip down her neck and frame her face. As Anakin shades and adds dimension, he feels Obi-Wan lean closer and peer at his drawing for a few seconds.

"Who is she?" Obi asks curiously.

"Just a friend of mine." Anakin replies, eyes firmly on the drawing. If Obi-Wan catches a look at his face, he'll see right through the lie- Obi-Wan is practically a human lie director. Unfortunately for Anakin, Obi-Wan sees through the denial anyway.

"I don't know. She looks like more than a friend to me." Obi-Wan says in a disbelieving tone. Anakin scoffs.

"You don't even know who she is." He says.

"I don't need to. Look at the way you've drawn her." Obi-Wan says flatly. He points to the subtle shadows below her eyes, the fine marks of her brows, the glowing gaze. "You've included careful details that tell us about her, but the rest is done with a heavy hand and contrast. You draw some of her in clear details, yet you draw other parts dramatically. You are enamoured by her." At his words, Anakin shoots him a dark glare.

"You don't know what's going on inside my head." He says grudgingly. "Who'd you draw anyway? Sabine?" At this, Obi-Wan subtly shifts his paper out of his friend's line of sight, drawing a wicked grin out of Anakin.

"At least I am upfront about who I find interest in." Obi-Wan says imperiously before turning his attention back to his own work. With a short huff at Obi's usual self-righteousness, Anakin turns back to his drawing. He will never admit it to Obi-Wan, but Anakin sees what his friend spoke of. He's drawn a lover, not a person. As Anakin muses, Qui-Gon speaks up at the front of the hall.

"Hopefully, everyone's drawn a face at this point. I want you to look at your drawing and analyze it. Ask yourself how you did. Are your proportions correct? Have you included any details unique to the face?" Qui-Gon pauses for a moment before continuing. "Over the course of the next few weeks, I want you to re-draw your portrait. You don't have to draw it in one sitting or make it more complicated than today's exercise, but I do want you to put in effort and pay attention to detail. On the last day of class, bring both portraits to class. You will hand them in for a completion mark. Class dismissed."

At his final words, the classroom lights up with the sounds of chair legs scraping concrete and shuffling backpacks. Anakin stays in his seat for a moment, looking down at his drawing. His gaze falls on the luminous eyes he's sketched, immortalized in charcoal. Then he hears Obi-Wan speak to him and he returns to reality, flipping his notebook closed.

* * *

Most people hate transit and the troubles it brings- being squished amongst strangers, waiting for late trains and buses, and the like. Padmé has experienced those downsides before, but she actually enjoys transit most days. There's some comfort in a worn-down seat on the bus, being warm and free to enjoy the scenery or people-watch; commute often enough, and you'll see a person from every corner of the human race at some point. It can be rather fascinating.

Today, however, this is not the case.

Padmé sits on the bus home, her eyes drooping with tiredness, the cold chill of the outdoors lingering at her neck. The sky out her window is deep sea blue, the streetlights shining orange against it. On the street outside, the cars file past the bus, the roads crowded as the world returns home from the day. Night approaches, although Padmé has a few hours of studying still ahead of her. If she goes back to her apartment, however, she knows that she won't get anything done. She needs to stay awake. Luckily, there's one cafe she knows of that is quiet and always open late.

Mere seconds later, the bus pulls up to Padmé's stop and Padmé disembarks, trudging down the street. As she turns the corner, the familiar storefront of Jedi Java comes into view. Padmé can practically smell the coffee as she trudges down the sidewalk. As she reaches the door of the cafe, she pulls it open and steps inside. The warmth hits her immediately and Padmé can already feel the tension draining out of her. That is, until she notes a familiar face manning the espresso machine.

Padmé's stomach flutters ever so slightly as she walks up to the counter. She ignores the feeling as best as she can as the barista- Anakin, she remembers- looks up and notices her. Immediately, he abandons what he was working on and makes his way over.

"Hey, what can I get for you?" He asks warmly, just friendly enough to betray his professionalism. Padmé finds a smile playing at her lips.

"A large latte, please." She replies. As Anakin scribbles her order on a cup, he raises his eyebrows.

"So, are you planning to stay up all night, or...?" He asks, a grin on his face. Padmé's smile grows.

"I might have to, but no, not all night if I can help it." Padmé says. Anakin's face screws up in a grimace.

"School, I'm guessing?" Anakin asks, knowing distain dripping from his voice. Padmé nods. She hesitates for a moment before she replies.

"Are you in university as well?" She asks. Anakin nods as well.

"Art and design. You?" He asks, as he begin ringing up the drink in the register.

"Pre-med." Padmé replies as she rustled around in her bag for her wallet. Anakin chuckles under his breath.

"No wonder you're pulling a late night." He says. Padmé shrugs, handing him a bill.

"I don't have too much longer to go, anyway." She says, taking the change Anakin gives her.

As Anakin works on her drink, the two of them fall into comfortable silence, Padmé on her phone as Anakin works away. After a minute, he slides her drink across the counter. As Padmé grabs it, she notices the foam design- a rippling leaf. She glances at Anakin with a smile.

"I never noticed the latte art before," she says.

"Well, we don't do it for just any customer." He says, looking up from the machine, his eyes bright. Padmé feels her stomach turn again. She doesn't ignore it this time. Instead, a little lightning surging in her veins, she arches an eyebrow in disbelief.

"You mean you don't do for every customer." She replies. Anakin flushes slightly, though his gaze turns coy.

"Maybe." He says. His reaction makes her laugh, her seriousness breaking, and she grins.

"Well, thanks...Anakin." She says, using his name after a beat. The slyness leaves Anakin's face and he just smiles.

"No worries, Padmé." He says. The butterflies return.

"Good memory." Padmé says nonchalantly, her brow quirking again as she turns away and heads for her usual table. As she sits down and begins to take out her textbooks, she feels lighter and more awake, a pleasant hum coursing through her body. Of course, it has nothing to do with coffee. Still, it's a nice feeling. So much for being nervous.

* * *

A/N: At last, an update! I struggled a bit with this chapter, so hopefully it sounds okay. Also, someone noted in the comments that storyline seemed to be advancing quickly. The timeframe between each perspective varies, but I imagined there being at least a couple days in between each character's POV, unless otherwise stated. Hopefully that clears up any confusion. Let me know what you think. Cheers, loves, and Merry Christmas!


	4. Four

Disclaimer: I do not own and am not affiliated with Star Wars, its producers/creators, or Lucasfilm in any way.

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

"Okay, spill it." Padmé looks up to see Sabé looming over her, suspicion in her dark eyes. Padmé frowns.

"What?" She asks questioningly. Sabé arches an eyebrow and sits down beside Padmé primly.

"You've got the hots for someone." Sabé says. Padmé scoffs at the idea, Sabé cuts her off. "Save it. I know you do- you've had that weird look on your face for the past half hour and I know it's not from the biochemistry textbook you're reading."

At Sabé's words, Padmé stops trying to talk, choosing to clam up stubbornly instead. Sabé lets silence sit in the air for a moment, watching her friend concentrate on her work. Then Sabé breaks face and jostles Padmé.

"C'mon, Ami," she says, using the nickname she has for Padmé, "tell me all the details. I want to know everything."

"I don't have to tell you anything about him." Padmé says quietly, keeping a calm face. She realizes her slip-up too late; Sabé's eyes light up with glee.

"Aha! So it is a guy..." Sabé says silkily. Padmé curses her own stupidity under her breath but doesn't let out any other information. Sabé remains unsatisfied and sidles up to Padmé, batting her eyelashes like a child asking for a treat. At this point, Padmé knows Sabé won't stop until she gets what she wants. With a sigh, Padmé turns to Sabé.

"He's just a guy I've seen a couple times. It's nothing substantial." Padmé tells Sabé, who listens with a victorious gleam in her eyes.

"Is he good-looking?"Sabé asks eagerly. Padmé's mind flashes to blue eyes, tanned skin, and wheat-gold hair. She shrugs vaguely and Sabé whacks her arm.

"Have you talked to him?" Sabé says, fishing for the scoop on the guy.

"A little, but it was in a professional context." Padmé says, continuing on when Sabé shoots her an unimpressed glance. "He was making me coffee- it wasn't exactly the place for riveting conversation." Sabé's eyes widen.

"Wait- does he work at a coffee shop? That is such a stereotypical meet-cute. Of course, you of all people would fall in love with a hot guy at a coffee shop." Sabé says, mock irritation coloring her words. Padmé frowns and goes back to reading, but Sabé isn't finished.

"So are you going to ask him out?" Sabé asks curiously. Padmé's face grows apprehensive.

"I barely know the guy, it'd be weird if I did that." She says, at which Sabé rolls her eyes.

"Padmé, that is what normal people do when they meet someone they like. They take them on a date or text or buy them coffee or something." Sabé says in exasperation. A smile slowly blooms on Padmé's face.

"I buy coffee from him already, shouldn't that be enough?" She says with a laugh while Sabé groans.

"Ok, just- the next time you see him, do something. Start small and get his number at least." Sabé says.

"Getting his number is not starting small." Padmé says sceptically, but Sabé waves her off.

"If you can successfully negotiate a grade on an exam up five percent, you can get a random guy's number," Sabé says imperially, turning away from Padmé. Grateful for the silence, Padmé goes back to reading. Still, Sabé's thoughts bounce around in her mind and, though she hates it, a twinge of doubt pricks her heart.

After all, she is a good negotiatior.

* * *

Anakin is focused. He is precision, he is strength, he is perfection. He can do anything. As he lets his ego run wild, his muscles strain to keep his hand steady while it moves. Time stops as his hand approaches the target, his arm winding back to strike-

 _Whap._ A balled-up napkin hits the wall dully, scaring away the pesky fly that Anakin had been stalking all afternoon, trying to squash. The fly buzzes away haphazardly and Anakin whips around to stare daggers at Ahsoka, who sits on the far counter and doesn't bother trying to hide her grin.

"You jerk!" Anakin exclaims, his fury uncontained. Ahsoka doesn't flinch. Sulking at his failed assassination, Anakin points his finger menacingly at Ahsoka.

"I should've expected betrayal from you." Anakin says, eyes narrowed. Ahsoka's smile grows.

"Of course, you should've. Good thing you're in the arts, fly boy." Ahsoka replies flippantly, hopping off the counter as the door bell jingles and a group of customers walk in. Still grumbling, Anakin gets to work at the espresso machine as Ahsoka begins taking orders and the cups line up on the counter.

At one point, Anakin, lost in thought and in his work, begins steaming milk for a latte. Immediately, Padmé's face pops into his mind as he remembers the last time they met and he smiles. As his mind and hands fly, Anakin hears a voice pipe up.

"Things are busier here than last night," the voice says. Anakin looks up absently and finds himself meeting a pair of umber eyes- the eyes that have been haunting his mind ever since he first saw Padmé. The woman in question watches Anakin, humor in her gaze, while Anakin stills his heart and wills himself not to gape as he finds his voice.

"Well,people typically want coffee in the daytime, not at night, so it makes sense." Anakin replies, hoping his voice sounds seems to work; Padmé shrugs good-naturedly.

"True," she says. Her voice tips up as she continues. "How has your week been?" This time, Anakin shrugs.

"Busy. Worked here a couple days, at school the rest of the time. You?" He asks, eyes flicking up to meet Padmé's.

"Same of labs to write up and such." Padmé says. Anakin grimaces.

"Sounds stressful." He notes. Padmé, as if realizing the shortness of her words, lets out a halting chuckle.

"It can be- it depends on the day." She says good-naturedly. "What about art? Is it hard to juggle?"

"You'd be surprised. We have this annual art showcase coming up and all the students have been going nuts trying to get their pieces done." Anakin explains, his eyes turning from Padmé to his deft hands.

"Do you have a piece in it this year?" Padmé asks conversationally. Anakin nods absently, his attention on his work.

"I submitted a mixed media piece I made a couple months ago. I've submitted stuff before, so it was just an off-the-cuff thing for me." Anakin says. Padmé nods, looking impressed. Her voice falters before she speaks again.

"All that artwork...it must be pretty incredible to see it all in one place." She mutters. In that moment, Anakin sees a golden opportunity approaching in the conversation; the perfect excuse for getting to talk to Padmé somewhere where he's not making her a latte. But he has to play it off first- he hasn't reached the right point in the conversation to make his move. Anakin hides his eagerness and puts his professional-person face back on, giving Padmé a nonchalant nod.

"Some years are better than others, but there's some cool pieces this time around." He says easily. Padmé looks at Anakin with casual interest.

"I'd love to see it at some point." Padmé says innocently. Anakin feels a sense of excited anticipation growing inside. That was delightfully easy, more so than he thought it may have been. For a moment, Anakin feels like a con man, but he blows the thought away with little hesitation.

"You should come check it out. The grand unveiling is Thursday night." Anakin states casually, glancing at Padmé carefully. "I could send you the details." He adds, as though he'd just thought of it. Padmé levels a critical eye on him- not unkind, perhaps a bit confused.

"You'll need my number for that." She says matter-of-factly. Anakin, in turn, just smiles.

"I think I will." He says. Padmé pauses for a moment, as though thinking. Jostling around in her bag, she pulls out a pen and grabs a napkin, scribbling out something Anakin can't see. As Padmé caps her pen, Anakin slides her finished drink towards her and she pushes him the napkin in return, on which she scribbled a phone number, her name, and a smiley face. Anakin carefully tucks the napkin in his pocket.

"Let me know about the showcase." Padmé says pleasantly. Anakin grins.

"I'll text you." He says slowly. For a moment, Padmé just raises a brow at him. Then she smiles in the thin, all-knowing way that Anakin has engraved in his mind and turns away, headed for the window. Anakin watches her leave for a second before something occurs to him. Maybe it's the smile, maybe it's the way she walked right into his plan- he doesn't know. But in that instant, it dawns on Anakin that he's just been played. She beat him at his own game. This thought registers in his mind with surprise, disbelief, and an electric current of desire that flashes through him like a match to gasoline.

Oh, she's good.

* * *

A/N: Hello, friends! Hope you had a wonderful holiday season and New Year's! Just so you know, I'm back to the grind now as well and, thus, don't worry if I don't update as often. I'll be busy, but I will try to update as regularly as possible- I have big plans for all my currently-in-progress works :D Sending positive vibes your way as we start 2018 together! Cheers!


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